


Secrets to Keep

by VulpesVulpes713



Series: Fictober 2018 [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fictober 2018, Friendship/Love, Love Confessions, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining Keith (Voltron), klance, love bug verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 17:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16580579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesVulpes713/pseuds/VulpesVulpes713
Summary: Prompt:"I know you do."





	1. Chapter 1

He’s seen Keith drunk before.

 

He’s seen him sick, and worn out. He’s seen him exhausted, and hurt, and concussed. He thinks he’s seen it all, but as always, the universe has a way of proving him wrong.

 

Because never in all his time spent knowing the boy has Lance seen Keith  _loopy._ Just, out of it, completely. And he has no idea  _why_  Keith is suddenly clinging to  _him_  of all people when they’re in a room full of people that  _includes_  Shiro.

 

Because Keith, in every odd circumstance Lance has witnessed him in before, would never,  _ever_ , be so inclined to resort to hugging of his own free will.

 

And  _him?!_ Him. Keith is hugging him.

 

Not that Lance particularly  _minds_ , but that’s not something he’s ready to admit just yet. And he’s not sure what to really think of the whole matter to begin with. Still, he holds his ground as Keith’s arms wrap around him, threatening to knock them both over as he nestles his head to Lance’s chest.

 

“Hmmm,” Keith hums.  _HUMS._ “You smell nice.”

 

And  _ooooohhh my god he did not just say that!_

 

But he must have, if the expressions on the rest of the team are anything to go by. Lance knows he’s blushing. He just hopes the others are too distracted by Keith’s statement to think much of it.

 

“I-uh….thanks?” he manages, and Keith fucking  _beams_  up at him. It’s blinding. It sends Lance’s head to another dimension as his heart pitters and patters like it’s been injected with caffeine.

 

“Interesting,” Coran speaks from the other side of the room. Lance locks eyes with him, hoping for some sort of explanation, some sort of  _reason_ for why Keith is acting so-so…not Keith?? “I’ve never seen a reaction this…severe.”

 

“Reaction?” Hunk questions, tone hesitant. “What happened, exactly?”

 

They all turn to Pidge then, who had been with Keith on their scouting mission. Who had brought the palading back, dizzy and out of it, informing them to prep a pod. Lance had recalled the panic he’d experienced upon hearing those words, though he had no idea as to why.

 

Keith was fine, he’d been told. Just bit by something. Some insect of some sort. It was nothing to worry about really.

 

Or so they’d thought.

 

“I thought you said the bite wasn’t poisonous?” Pidge pipes up, ignoring Hunk’s question as she turns towards Coran. “Is he going to be okay?”

 

“Yes, likely,” Coran supplies, and a long pause spreads out as they wait for him to continue.

 

He doesn’t.

 

“ _And?!”_  Pidge prods, and Lance is thankful that the attention is diverting to her, as Keith’s hands are now roaming up and down his back, and the sounds he’s making are doing things to Lance’s body that he would rather not ponder.

 

Coran blinks, turning back to them in surprise as if he’d forgotten the current situation.

 

“Oh, well,” he shrugs, glancing over at Keith with a smile. “From what you told us, he was bit by a Shrowdig. Just a minor insect of the Glando division. Their bites tend to accentuate emotions. Feelings. Senses.”

 

“But you said his reaction was severe,” Shiro adds, watching Keith begin to sway back and forth in Lance’s arms. “What…exactly did it do to him?”

 

“Just as I said,” Coran informs them, though the humour in his tone suggests there’s more to it than that. “He’ll experience an increase in emotional activity, resulting in a temporary sensory overload, for a few dobashes, maybe less, maybe more. It’s nothing to worry about, just something to wait out.”

 

“So…he doesn’t need a pod?” Hunk adds, and the attention is shifted back towards the corner of room where Lance is attempting to keep Keith’s hands out of his shirt.

 

“He just needs rest.”

 

“Are we sure about tha-” Lance attempts to speak, but Keith’s knees abruptly give out, and the rest of his sentence is transformed into a startled yelp as he struggles to support the added weight. “Jesus, Keith-”

 

And Keith giggles.

 

And the room goes silent.

 

And Lance thinks his face is going to ignite from the heat it carries.

 

“Everyone else heard that, right?” Hunk whispers, glancing around the room. “Like…we all just experienced the same thing?”

 

“Oh yes, we did,” Pidge smirks, turning towards Coran with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Hey uh…does this ship have cameras at all? Or any sort of video feed that can be analyzed…maybe saved….?”

 

“Oh no-” Lance begins, knowing exactly what it is Pidge plans to do, but he’s drowned out as Allura answers.

 

“We do! Yes! I can show you where.”

 

“Perfect.”

 

“Hey, wait-!” Lance tries again, but they leave, Hunk following after with an apologetic shrug.

 

“I suppose we should carry him to his room then,” Shiro moves forward, trying and failing to hide the grin on his face. “You want me to take him-”

 

“Nooooo,” Keith interrupts, standing suddenly as his arms wrap tighter around Lance’s neck. “Don’t…leave me.”

 

And  _oh,_ Lance thinks. _How could I when you say it like that?_

 

“I’ll, uh…I can manage,” he stutters, eyes darting around the room as Shiro’s gaze lingers. He knows what the other is thinking. Knows what will be said about him when he leaves with Keith.

 

But Lance can’t really bring himself to care. Not with the former red paladin currently trying to coil around him like a touch-starved koala.

 

“I’ll take him to his room,” Lance declares, and just like that it’s settled.

 

“Alright,” Shiro agrees, nodding slyly as he exits. Coran follows after, though he lingers in the doorway for a moment.

 

“Make sure he gets a good amount of sleep. Try not to keep him up too late.” He winks, which throws Lance off completely, and then leaves before Lance can ask what he means.

 

He  _thinks_  he knows, but doesn’t want to consider it too much. It’s hard enough focusing with Keith mumbling nonsense against his neck.

 

“Okay…great,” Lance groans as he’s left in the room with his new charge. And speaking of, Keith seems to be succumbing to sleep, as his lids droop heavily with each lazy blink up at Lance. He needs to get him to his room, pronto. “Hey Keith, I’m going to take you back to your bed, okay?”

 

“Ooh,” Keith sings, brow rising high on his forehead. “Is that so?”

 

“Wha-” Lance begins, but breaks off as his cheeks warm uncomfortably. “Not like that, geez. You need to rest.”

 

Keith nods against his chest, sinking heavily into it as he does.

 

“Okay then…can you carry me?”

 

_Excuse me?!_

 

“Uh-”

 

“ _Please?”_  Keith cooes, and Lance is weak. Weak and easily persuaded by this version of Keith, apparently.

 

“Ugh. Fine,” he huffs, hoping he sounds more annoyed than he feels. “But you owe me  _big time.”_

 

“That’s fine with me,” Keith confesses, or teases? Lance can’t tell. So instead he focuses on lifting the nuisance boy. It would be an easier task were Keith not so fluid, if that makes sense. Carrying him reminds Lance of holding a cat: all weird flexible limbs and this odd knack for coiling up in the most bizzare positions. How he manages to get them out of the room and into the hallway is a feat Lance will never truly understand.

 

“Hey Lance,” Keith whispers as the door closes behind them, or… _tries_  to at least-voice echoing loudly off the walls. “I have a secret for you.”

 

“Do you now?” Lance grunts, adjusting the arm beneath Keith’s legs as he walks. “What sort of secret?”

 

Keith grins, resting his head against Lance’s shoulder as he does.

 

“A…secret one.”

 

“Wow,” Lance grumbles, but he can’t help the smile that lifts his mouth. “A ‘secret’ secret. Sounds intense.”

 

“It is,” Keith admits. “Want to hear it?”

 

Lance does, but he feels that would sort of be cheating. Clearly Keith isn’t in his right frame of mind, and taking advantage of him in this state, even if the information is freely given, is not something Lance wants. So he shakes his head.

 

“I don’t think you should tell me.”

 

“Oh…really?” Keith asks curiously-innocently-brows scrunching together in confusion. And Lance is suffering because  _holy shit he’s way too cute what the hell-_ “Why not?”

 

“Because,” he drawls, hoping his racing pulse isn’t as noticeable as it feels, “if you tell me, it’s no longer a secret.”

 

Keith frowns, as if that line of reasoning hadn’t occurred to him before.

 

“Oh…well,” he looks away for a moment, then back up into Lance’s eyes. And when he goes on it’s with a softness Lance isn’t used to. He’s gentle. Tender. And…fond? Lance doesn’t know what to do with  _fond._ “I think maybe I want to tell you anyway. I think the secret was about you to begi-”

 

“Aaaannd we’re here!” Lance interrupts, relieved to have an excuse to cut Keith short. He didn’t think he’d be able to withstand should the boy continue. The door slides open, and Lance hastily deposits Keith onto his bed, tucking him beneath the covers and patting his head as he would a small child.

 

“Okay, go to sleep now,” he drones, tone clipped and hasty. He needs to leave,  _now._  “Just call if you need anythin-”

 

But he doesn’t have time to turn away before Keith is latching onto his sleeve, cutting his sentence short as he pulls Lance down onto the bed beside him.

 

“Don’t leave me, please…”

 

Lance’s breath hitches in his throat. He’s too close. Right here, beside Keith, laying horizontal on a bed that’s not his own.

 

Too close.

 

Too close…

 

And yet-

 

“Lance…”

 

_Not close enough._

 

So he sighs, defeated, and hopes his resilience is strong enough to withstand this emotional version of Keith.

 

“Okay,” he whispers, because that’s all he can manage. “I’ll stay.”

 

Keith doesn’t respond right away, eyes scanning over Lance’s face with an intensity that he’s not used to. It’s like he’s searching for something, but isn’t quite sure what. It makes Lance wish he could supply the answer right away, only he can’t. He doesn’t know either.

 

The look doesn’t last long though, for which Lance is grateful. He isn’t sure how long he’d have been able to last under such scrutiny.

 

“I have a secret,” Keith mumbles softly, glancing down at where his hand is still wrapped around Lance’s arm. His grip loosens, but only just.

 

“ **I know you do** ,” Lance signs, not daring to move. Hardly daring to breathe.

 

“Is it okay if I tell it to you?”

 

Lance wants to say no. He  _should_ say no.

 

But he can’t bring himself to do it. Not with Keith like this, subtle and soft and hushed. Not when he’s this close, breath mingling and tickling Lance’s nose.

 

He’s going to feel bad when Keith sobers. He’s going to regret allowing himself this moment of weakness. Because he knows Keith will be angry, and upset, and likely feel used and just

absolutely  _rotten_ for having told Lance his secret.

 

But Lance can’t help himself. He can’t say no. He wants to soak in as much of this Keith as he can, because he’s selfish. He’s scared. He’s desperate. He  _wants_ , more than he’s wanted anything, and he fears this is his only chance to get so close to Keith. He can’t miss this opportunity. He needs it.

 

So he nods.

 

“Yeah, you can tell me.”

 

He’s not sure what he expects. Granted, he’s not known what to expect ever since learning about Keith’s mystery bug bite and the symptoms that followed. The hugging was strange enough, as was the continued clinging. The giggles, the sighs, the teasing.  

 

Lance hadn’t known what to think of any of it. But he’d convinced himself, somewhere along the way, that it all meant nothing. It’s just a reaction. A dramatization of feelings that he didn’t even think existed.

 

Keith,  _this_  Keith, isn’t real. He’s just a side-effect. And Lance can’t let himself be fooled into thinking much more than that.

 

Still, he’s not sure what he expects.

 

But it sure as hell isn’t this.

 

“I like you.”

 

Lance freezes: mouth widening comically as he stares into dark indigo eyes framed by black hair and rosy cheeks. He’s going into shock, he thinks. Denial. There’s no way. Keith did _not_ just say-

“I like you,” Keith repeats, as if hearing Lance’s doubts and reassuring him that he heard right. “I like you, Lance. A lot. I have for a while. And I just…I want you to know.”

 

“Keith-” Lance tries, but the rest of his sentence falls short. He isn’t sure what to say, how to react. So he doesn’t. He lays numbly next to Keith on the bed, wondering what the hell he should do.

 

_It’s not real. This Keith isn’t real. He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t-_

 

“I like-”

 

“No!” Lance cuts him off, sitting up with a jerk. Keith’s hand tears from his shirt, but Lance stands before he can reach out again. “No, Keith, you don’t.”

 

“But-”

 

“Just, please….don’t do this,” Lance begs. He’s  _begging_  now, eyes downcast as tears threaten to blur his vision. He can’t do this. Not now. “You don’t like me.”

 

_You can’t like me, because this version of you is false. The real you…he doesn’t feel the same._

 

“Lance, please-”

 

But he doesn’t hear the rest of Keith’s plea. He darts from the room, hardly processing where he goes. All he knows is that it’s far. Far from Keith’s room, from the secret that he now knows. He wishes he didn’t. But it’s too late.

 

He needs space. He needs to think.

 

He needs to forget Keith’s confession.

 

Because it’s not real.

 

It’s not real.

 

It’s not.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> “You shouldn’t have come here.”

He wakes in a sweat: freezing, uncomfortable, and with the biggest headache he’s ever experienced. But he can’t distinguish which emotion he predominantly feels. Can’t because they all seem to be competing for first place, and Keith worries what the outcome will be, who will rise victorious.

 

“Shit-ah-” he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries sitting up. That venture falls short though, and he sinks deeper into his pillow as a wave of euphoria washes over him.

 

_What-_

 

And then he’s crying.

 

And now laughing?

 

_What is going on?!_

 

Anger. Frustration. Joy. Hunger?? Why can he suddenly see so well? Oh wait, no…it’s pitch black. He’s scared. Horrified. Confused now. That one he at least understands.

 

“Someone-” he tries reaching out, but the array of emotions swarming his headspace choke out his plea as a panicked laugh escapes his throat.

 

_WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?!_

 

He tries to remember…thinks he almost does when he’s abruptly too hot. The covers itch. They burn his skin. So he tosses them off: an action that apparently brings him unorthodox rage.

 

“ARGHH-”

 

Why can he smell colour?! Why is the ship spinning but everything is so silent?! Oh wait, nope. He can hear the walls now. Tears again, but he has no idea the cause behind them.

 

He thinks he lies back down. Maybe he collapses. He can’t tell because he can  _feel the fucking mattress whispering about how heavy he is which is incredibly rude and is hurting his feelings-_

 

Feelings.

 

No. He has too many. And now not enough! He’s overwhelmed, then content. Tense and relaxed. Each inhale brings with it a new sensation: a different experience.

 

And Keith is suffering.

 

“ _HELP-!”_

 

He shouts.

 

Or maybe he whispers?

 

Wait…did he even speak at all?!

 

_Please, someone-I don’t-I can’t…what is going on-_

 

His door opens, and a shadow approaches.

 

Anxiety. Perplexion. Hatred. A bizarre craving for Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

 

Shiro…it’s Shiro. He’s there. He’s speaking. And for some reason a stream of confetti falls out of his mouth and dissolves into tiny bubbles of exhaustion.

 

He passes out from the sensory overload: Shiro clasping onto him tightly as the smell of shoe polish and sourdough fill the air.

 

The last thing Keith feels is a sharp sense of regret accompanied by the colour blue.

 

Then loneliness at the feel of arms around his chest.

 

And then nothing at all.

 

Only a void into which he gladly jumps.

 

* * *

 

He wakes on the floor, weary and disheveled, but without a headache, which he is immediately thankful for. But as he sits up, blanket falling from his exposed shoulder- _when did I take off my shirt?-_ he begins to wonder  _why_  exactly he feels that way.

 

His memories are hazy, and the more he tries to recall what had happened, the quicker the images fade, like trying to catch the remnants of a dream.

 

_Maybe that’s all it was. A dream._

 

He stands, and dresses, and decides his hair is best kept up, and then makes his way to the kitchens. He’s hungry, which is an emotion he thinks he can easily manage.

 

Shiro is there when he enters, and he waves as Keith approaches.

 

“Hey, feeling better?”

 

Keith nods, despite his confusion.

 

“Um…yeah. Sure. But..what-” he breaks off, not knowing how to really ask his next question.

 

_What happened to me?_

 

Shiro seems to know right away regardless, and smiles to himself as he pushes a plate of food Keith’s way.

 

“You were bit by some bug. Had a reaction to it. Nothing major.”

 

“Oh…” Keith blinks. “Is that all?”

 

“Well…I mean,” Shiro rubs the back of his neck, a sure-fire sign that there’s  _much_  more to the story. And sure enough: “You were out for a day or so…”

 

“ _What?!”_ Keith yelps, appetite gone. “ _I was out for that long?!”_

 

“Sort of..?” Shiro winces. “You needed the rest though. Apparently your reaction was more severe than we originally thought.”

 

“And what,  _exactly_ , was my reaction?”

 

_Had to have been something outrageous to knock me out for that long. Like, an allergy or-_

 

“Your emotions went haywire.”

 

Keith whirls, spinning to see Pidge as she enters the kitchen. She’s carrying her laptop, glasses situated on top of unkempt hair as she rummages for a snack.

 

“My…what?”

 

“It was more than just that,” Shiro adds, and Keith glances back his way. “The bite sort of, _amplified_ your feelings. It messed with your senses as well.”

 

“Sensory chaos,” Pidge chimes as she joins them. “It was funny at first but…I don’t know. We were scared for a bit there.”

 

“I found you in the midst of the worst part of it,” Shiro goes on, and Keith thinks he can vaguely recall the man in one of his dreams. Though…maybe it hadn’t been a dream… ”You were…really out of it. Mumbling all sorts of things that made no sense. You kept passing in and out of consciousness.”

 

“Wow…” Keith mumbles, headache forming as he tries to recall. But he can’t. Not much anyway. “I don’t really remember…”

 

Pidge and Shiro exchange a look at that, which Keith is immediately wary of.

 

“What…is there more?”

 

“Well…uh-” Shiro begins, but trails off as Pidge finishes for him.

 

“Every time you would wake, you would ask for someone. It was…like clockwork actually. We-”

 

“Morning,” a voice calls from the doorway, and Pidge breaks off as her eyes dart in that direction.

 

Keith turns, but he knows already who is standing there, and as his eyes land on the boy, he feels something within him lift its head in curiosity, stirring residual mist that he’d thought had settled.

“What are you-oh…” Lance breaks off as his gaze meets Keith’s, and he hastily glances away. “You’re, uh, feeling better?”

 

Keith frowns, baffled by Lance’s tone. It’s not light and carefree, as it usually is. And it’s not instigating, which tends to be the case whenever he specifically addresses Keith.

 

Instead it feels distant. Awkward. Hesitant.

 

“Yeah, I guess so,” he answers, watching Lance nod slowly with his eyes still fixed to the floor.

 

“Good, good. Cool. That’s-” he stops, swallowing thickly, and then swiftly turns. “Well, I’ll see ya later!”

 

He leaves. Just like that. And Keith knows he’s not the only one who noticed Lance’s strange behaviour as he shifts around in his seat to glance back at Shiro and Pidge. Only…their expressions don’t match the one Keith knows he’s wearing.

 

Where his is bewildered, theirs are passive, borderline pitying. He watches them exchange another look, before their eyes rise to meet his.

 

“Uh…care to explain?”

 

Shiro sighs, standing to place a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

 

“The bite amplified your feelings, remember? Made you…sort of  _different_  from how you usually are. I think…” he hums, which is a nervous tick that signals him attempting to find the proper wording. The correct phrase. It makes Keith anxious. “When you were…affected, you tended to focus all your attention on one person.”

 

 _Oh no..,_ Keith thinks, because he knows what Shiro is getting at.

 

“And I’m not sure exactly what happened between you two-”

 

_Oh god, no-_

 

“-but it’s made things…rather tense.”

 

Keith drops his head to the table surface, groaning as he imagines all the possible ways he could have messed up. There are infinite. It hurts his stomach. 

 

“Fuck…” he mumbles, then turns his face to the side to stare over at Shiro, knowing already an apology is needed. “So…did I yell at him? Make fun of him?  _Fight_  him? Clearly I did something to offend him because-”

 

“Well,  _actually_ ,” Pidge interjects, and Keith sits up to glance her way. “It was…sort of the opposite of all that.”

 

_The…opposite?_

 

But before he can ask for clarification Pidge turns her laptop to face him, showing a video waiting to be played. He gulps painfully, and waits for her to go on.

 

“I think it’s best to just show you.”

 

So she does. And Keith watches with dread as the scene unfolds. They’re in the control room, bustled around the entrance to the Green Lion hangar. There’s no volume, but Keith can decipher what goes on well enough.

 

Himself and Pidge exit the hangar, Pidge’s mouth moving fast as she supports Keith’s- _his-_ weight as best she can. And he…he looks really out of it. Just dreadful. The others crowd around him, asking what happened, and Shiro attempts to take him from Pidge.

 

And then something  _truly_  bizarre happens.

 

Keith-video feed Keith-looks up. And he locks eyes with Lance.

 

And Keith watches with a swiftly dropping stomach as his recorded self tears free from Pidge and Shiro, practically diving through the others to get at the boy.

 

“Wha-” he tries, but trails off as he sees himself latch onto Lance, ogling him,  _cuddling_  him! It’s like witnessing a stranger, because there’s no way that’s him doing this! There’s no way! He wouldn’t-he  _doesn’t-_

 

His face heats uncomfortably. He wants to shrivel up and decompose. How could he have done that? And why is Lance going along with it?! Why didn’t he push him away! Why not hand him over to Shiro-

 

 _Oh._   _Looks like he tried…and I…wouldn’t let him._

 

_Fuck._

 

_Fuck!_

 

He wants to look away. Thinks he’s about to vomit from the cringiness of the video, from his own behaviour. How could he do that?! How could he act that way! And it’s so  _obvious_!

 

It was supposed to be a secret-

 

Secret. Wait.

 

Something clicks in his mind; some piece fitting together that had been dismissed as dream. A scene, in his room…Lance is there. He’s beside him. On the bed.

 

They’re close.

 

And staring.

 

And Lance is smiling at him, sweetly…gently.

 

_That isn’t real though. It’s not. It can’t be! That’s a dream! That was…nothing-_

 

_“I like you.”_

 

_There’s no way…_

 

“What have I done…” he moans, more to himself than anything as he shoves his hands into his face, and Shiro closes the laptop with a sigh.

 

“It’s not your fault, Keith,” he tries, but Keith shakes his head, refusing to accept any excuses. Because it  _is_  his fault.  _He_  was the one who told Lance his secret.  _He_ was the one who acted like some love-sick teenager.  _He_ was the one who got fucking  _bit_  in the first place!

 

He stands abruptly, nearly tipping over his chair as he does.

 

“I need to fix this,” he informs the others, making to leave. Pidge catches his sleeve before he can make it very far.

 

“I’m not sure that’s a good ide-”

 

“Let him,” Shiro interrupts her, and she stares up at him as if looking to argue. But the fight leaves her just as quick as it came, and she releases her hold with a defeated nod.

 

“Alright.”

 

Keith leaves without another word, practically sprinting from the room as he begins his search for Lance. He’s nervous, and frightened, because he might be too late. The bridge they’d so delicately crafted between them might have already shattered to splinters, and-

 

_No. I can’t think like that! I’ll fix this. I’ll fix this!_

 

He doesn’t know how, or if Lance will even want to try, but Keith knows he has to. He has to apologize…explain himself.

 

So he runs faster: air stinging his eyes as his jaw begins to ache.

 

_Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry!_

 

But the images he’d passed off as dream resurface with a vengeance, clouding his mind with emotions he can’t begin to decipher.

 

It’s mostly regret, tinged with unease, but there’s an underlying warmth that radiates from his core: a warmth that accompanies each vision of Lance’s smile. Every touch…every breath…blue eyes staring deep into his own.

 

_“I like you.”_

 

He does. He does!

 

_But Lance didn’t need to know that! It was supposed to be a secret…and stay a secret-_

 

And he really hates whatever insect did this to him. Hates it more than anything else in this fucking universe. How dare it. How  _dare_  it!

 

Tears blur his vision now, which causes Keith to stop as he gasps for air against the wall. He’s shaking. His legs are weak. His heart is threatening to vibrate out of his rib-cage. He honestly feels sick, and almost gags as he recalls the look Lance wore when he told him his secret.

 

_“I like you.”_

 

Blue eyes had turned away. Brown skin had paled. He’d sat up, ran away.

 

_“Don’t do this. You don’t like me.”_

 

_But I do, Lance. You just weren’t supposed to find out._

 

Only he had. Thanks to some stupid alien bug.

 

He’d found out.

 

Keith swallows thickly, wiping his cheeks of tears as he grits his teeth. He forces himself to take several deep breaths, focusing, clearing his head. Like Shiro had taught him to do.

He can’t be crying. Not now. He needs to stay strong. Needs to not make this about himself.

 

He needs to repair his and Lance’s friendship, because he’s soiled it with his  _stupid fucking_  emotions.

 

He pushes off the wall with a grunt, shoving aside his feelings in favour of a blank mind, visualizing Lance as a mission that needs completing to help him concentrate.

 

 _I need to fix this,_ he thinks with a calm determination, and begins his search anew.

 

_I will fix this, Lance. Don’t worry._

 

_I’ll fix us._

 

* * *

He hears him approach before he sees him: knows who it is by the weight in each step, the purpose in every stride.

 

Keith had always been proficient in making an entrance, and Lance prepares to be yelled at as the footsteps echo closer. Because why else would Keith be here? Why else seek him out, other than to bite his head off for taking advantage when he was sick? When he was out of his mind?

 

…When he was someone else?

 

Lance shivers despite the warmth of the room, and holds his breath as the footsteps come to a halt.

 

_Here it comes, here comes the ye-_

 

“Lance.”

 

… _yell?_

 

But that hadn’t been what that was. Actually, it’d sounded more like a whisper, brimming with relief and something else Lance doesn’t linger on. His chest tightens, and he exhales slowly without turning to face the boy.

 

Because he can’t bring himself to. He can’t look at Keith yet. Not now. Not without hearing those words repeat tauntingly in his head.

 

_“I like you, I like you, I like-”_

 

“ **You shouldn’t have come here** ,” he murmurs, attempting hostility but only really achieving a pitiful tone.

 

Indigo eyes, blushed face…the feeling of fingers wrapped tight around his wrist. Keith’s giggles. His smiles. His voice hushed and playful.

 

_“I like you.”_

 

If only Lance could believe that. If only that Keith were real.

 

“I think I needed to,” the boy replies softly, and Lance knows he’s staring: can see it in the reflection of the window.

 

 _He looks beautiful,_ Lance finds himself thinking, but no.  _He looks sad._

 

_And it’s because of me._

 

“Lance,” Keith goes on, pulling on the sleeve of his jacket self-consciously. “I…I think we need to talk.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> “You think this troubles me?”

There’s a silence that follows his statement, but Lance can’t bring himself to fill it.

 

_Talk. He wants to talk._

 

But there’s no need. Lance already knows what about. So he saves the boy the hassle of asking, and inhales deeply before turning Keith’s way.

 

“Listen,” he begins, eyes darting up briefly to absorb the image of Keith in a ponytail. He doesn’t find that very fair, heart drooling at the sight, and quickly averts his gaze. “I know what you’re going to say. And I…I’m sorry.”

 

Keith frowns, which is a look Lance is accustomed to seeing, especially directed towards him.

 

_So he is mad._

 

But then Keith deflates-instantly-like witnessing a child lose sight of the helium balloon they accidentally released.

 

“Oh…”

 

_….Oh?_

 

Lance doesn’t know what to do with ‘oh’. He was expecting a fight. An argument. Some shitty banter that would result in them laughing and forgetting the whole thing.

 

But not ‘oh’.

 

“I, uh-” he tries, but Keith cuts him off.

 

“It should be me apologizing, Lance. Not you.”

 

_Wait….what?!_

 

Lance stands, more out of shock than anything, but remains in his corner near the window. Keith also hasn’t moved from the door, and the space between them is a startling metaphor that Lance would rather not personify. Still, he can’t make his feet move.

 

“W-why…exactly-” he starts, but changes gears halfway. “You don’t have to apologize.”

 

“I do,” Keith insists. “I was weird and…awkward and-and I know I made you uncomfortable. Pidge showed me and-…” he trails off, cheeks flushing darkly. “I wasn’t in control.”

 

Lance stares for a long moment. Stares because he’s surprised…befuddled. Stares because Keith isn’t looking and he can admire the way his dark hair accentuates the colour in his cheeks.

 

But he stops himself there. He can’t allow thoughts like that to survive: to grow and develop. He wants to…has a little garden all set up somewhere in the back of his mind specifically meant for nurturing feelings about Keith, but it’s self-indulgent. It’s stupid, really.

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says after a while. It’s the truth. Any one of them would have reacted the same, if not worse. So Lance can’t blame Keith for the manner in which he acted. The things he said. He can’t, and he doesn’t. Besides- “It’s not like it was really you anyway.”

 

Lance expects Keith to show relief. He’s just provided him with the perfect escape route for the embarrassing events that occurred between them. An excuse. A mend.

 

He expects relief even while experiencing a deep ache in his chest as he says it. It’s not a lie, the words he speaks. Keith wasn’t the same person that night. He was someone else. Someone who actually liked Lance. Liked in a way that Lance rarely experienced.

 

But Keith’s head snaps up as the sentence reaches his ears, and rather than relief, the boys expression slips into despair. He’s conflicted, and though Lance can’t tell the participants of the emotional war waging heavy in indigo eyes, he doubts either are good.

 

“You-” Keith tries, voice strained and tight. “What do you mean by that?”

 

“I mean, like…you know,” Lance smiles, but it’s not real. It’s tense, and for show. He’s too perplexed by this reaction to do it properly. “You were someone else. A different person. All huggy and nice and-”  _and wow. That sounds mega rude…_ But it’s too late to stop now. “You said things that the  _real_  you would  _never_  say. And you acted like you actually…I don’t know…cared about m- _us._  Us.” He corrects quickly, though he doubts Keith would notice. He’d been too out of it to know that the only person he’d shown any interest in was Lance.

 

And speaking of….that was something else that needed to be addressed.

 

“I know you’re mad at me for-for…”

 

 _What…taking care of him? Bringing him to his room?! It’s not like I wanted to stay…Or well…not really…_  But Lance shakes his head. He can’t say those things to Keith, so he gets right to the heart of it.

 

“I know you’re upset with the way you acted. And I just want you to know that I don’t-didn’t…that your-” he breaks off with a huff, wondering why this is so much harder than he’d thought when rehearsing in his head. “Your secret-”

 

That does the trick, and Keith’s eyes widen as his neck burns red.

 

“So it’s true… I told you..”

 

He murmurs the phrase, but Lance hears it well enough. He nods, and takes a few steps forward.

 

“Yeah…but Keith,” he laughs, though it’s more of an expulsion of air than anything, “you don’t have to worry about it. I won’t tell anyone, and, like…I know you didn’t mean it. It wasn’t you. It wasn’t real.”

 

“I-you think-”

 

“And so it’s no problem! No harm done.”

 

“Lance-”

 

“You can rest easy knowing I won’t take what you said to heart or…or anything weird,” he shrugs, trying for lighthearted even though his body is sinking beneath the weight of denial. Because he  _had_  taken Keith’s words to heart. And to head. And to soul.

 

And every night since hearing them he’s had dreams where he wakes next to Keith…hands curled together and chests rising and falling in unison. And those words…that confession…that stupid  _damn_  secret, repeats itself tauntingly until Lance jolts up, alone in his room.

 

But that’s all those words will ever be. A dream to wake up from.

 

_Because that Keith didn’t exist._

 

“So you don’t have to worry about what that version of you said. I know it wasn’t real. So you-”

 

“ **You think** _that_ **troubles me**?!’ Keith yells suddenly, cutting Lance short. He blinks, nearly choking on the rest of his sentence as Keith stares back intensely. And it’s almost déja vù: that searching gaze, scanning over Lance’s face, looking…hoping to find whatever is hidden beneath.

 

“Um…” Lance tries, feeling the heat beneath his skin, but Keith doesn’t allow him the chance to explain. Not that he could to begin with.

 

“You think I came here  _mad_  at you for helping me out?”

 

_…Yes._

 

“No, I-”

 

“And you think that-that it wasn’t really me? That I was someone else…that those words, those things I did and said…they weren’t real? They were all fake? Made-up?” His voice is softer now, wounded, and though Lance longs to comfort him: to wrap him up in his arms and whisper away the sadness, he can’t.

 

“Weren’t they?” His own voice is barely audible, as if the question were more of a thought with stage fright. He’d been so sure…so absolutely  _convinced_  that that Keith hadn’t existed…and now…

 

Now he’s more confused than ever.

 

And Keith….well, Keith looks tormented. He looks broken. And foreign. This isn’t the Keith Lance is used to seeing.

 

But then again, maybe there are multiple Keith’s Lance has never seen. Maybe the one he’s convinced is real, the one with the constant grimace and the attitude and the sass…is the fake.

 

_Or maybe he’s just like the rest of us, with varying emotions that he just prefers to keep hidden. Did you ever think about that?!_

 

“No,” Keith whispers, and it takes Lance a moment to recall what it was he’d asked as he mentally scolds himself.

 

_No…_

 

And then it hits him. Hits him like a bucket of muddy water, cold and harsh and making everything more clouded and messy. Because if Keith said no then…

 

_That means-_

 

“They weren’t, Lance.”

 

And he can’t speak. He just stares. And though Keith stares back, the look in his eyes is one of defeat, and he turns back towards the door with a sigh.

 

“I don’t think I was someone else. It was still me…just, with less control over my emotions. But if you want to pretend otherwise, I won’t stop you. In fact…” he pauses, biting his lower lip as his gaze darts back up to Lance’s face. “Maybe it’s better if you do.”

 

_Wait….no! That’s not what I want! That’s-_

 

But he can’t speak. For some reason he can’t make his  _fucking_  words work! And his silence is  _suffocating_  them both and-!

 

And Keith is waiting… _waiting_ …and with a trembling lip he turns away, feet carrying him towards the exit, away from Lance, widening the gap between them and-

 

And Lance is running.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> "But I will never forget!”

It’s instinct that has him reacting the way he does. The footsteps, the fact that his back is turned, the close confines of the hall…His guard is already up from their conversation: his defenses at full throttle.

 

And he  _knows_  it’s Lance behind him, yet that does little to convince his mind that the arms that suddenly wrap around his middle are friendly.

 

 _Danger!_ His brain screams. _Must protect!_

 

So it’s instinct that has Keith turning before Lance’s arms can tighten, grabbing hold of broad shoulders and using the energy from his opponent against him as his thoughts blank and his eyes narrow and his focus is entirely diverted to fight mode.

 

He flips, bending backwards, and sends Lance flying before landing on top of him with a huff of exertion. His hand reaches for his knife as he crouches low over his victim, ready to withdraw it, when he snaps back to his senses.

 

“Oh, fuck-”

 

“Ooowwwww-” Lance groans loudly, reaching up to cradle the back of his head as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Keith, what the _hell_  man!”

 

“I’m sorr-” Keith tries, panicking. “You ran at me! I thought I was being attacked-”

 

“Why would I  _attack you?!”_

 

“I just..I reacted the way-”

 

“You freaking  _dummied_  me dude!” Lance interrupts, glaring up at him with a pout. His eyes are watering, likely from the impact of skull against solid flooring. “Yeesh, didn’t even have any warning or anything.”

 

“You snuck up on me!” Keith protests, though he’s not sure why he’s so defensive. He’s not even sure ‘snuck up’ is the right term to use. Lance had full on sprinted at him, judging from the footsteps.

_It was instinct!_

 

Well,  _that_ and emotionally clouded thoughts. His head had been somewhere else, body running on autopilot.

 

“I wasn’t  _sneaking_  up on you, you absolute  _sponge!_  I was-” but Lance breaks off before he can explain himself, glancing away with a flush of red in his cheeks.

 

“You were…?” Keith prods, subdued by the manner in which Lance is now acting. Like he’s shy. Which is  _not_  a Lance thing. At all.

 

“I-” Lance tries again, then sighs heavily, lifting his eyes to peek up at Keith. “I was trying to give you a hug.”

 

_A…hug?_

 

“From behind?” Keith hears himself blurt, and Lance rolls his eyes with a frustrated huff.

 

“I didn’t want you to…I was trying to stop you-”

 

“From what?” Keith pushes, but he’s hardly paying attention. Not when Lance is so close-so  _warm_. Not when his cheeks are blazing scarlet and his hair is tousled and those  _damn beautiful blue fucking eyes_ are darting this way and that and Keith just wants to hold them in place and have Lance’s full attention and-

 

“Leaving.”

 

-and:  _oh…what was that now?_

 

Lance won’t look at him. Instead he’s glaring at a spot on the wall to his right, and it’s then that Keith realizes he’s still firmly planted on top of the boy, straddling his hips with his hand still near his knife. He  _would_  feel awkward-would move off and apologize and run-but he’s curious now. And Lance isn’t exactly protesting either.

 

But Keith is pulled back to the situation at hand as he processes what Lance had meant. That he’d just admitted he hadn’t wanted him-Keith-to leave. That  _that_  had been his intention with his weird, backwards hug or whatever. The question now was:

 

“Why?” he asks softly, finding it somewhat adorable when Lance’s ears turn a deep crimson.

 

“You know why,” Lance answers, whispers fading before they can echo off the corridor. “I don’t…” and when he exhales, Keith feels it. When those blue eyes flutter back to his face, he feels it. When Lance speaks again, holding his gaze as his voice rasps pleasantly in his ears,  _he feels it._

 

It’s hope, maybe, or else a serious case of vertigo.

 

“I don’t…want to pretend.”

 

And that has Keith’s stomach flipping dangerously, swirling the emotions he’d thought he’d done a decent job of suppressing. He leans back in shock, nearly giving himself whiplash in the process, and his mouth drops open as his jaw goes slack. He’s still holding Lance’s stare, somehow, as if trapped within it.

 

 _No…not trapped-_ because that would imply a desire to escape.

 

But then Lance is sitting up, slowly, wincing as he does, but his eyes never leave Keith’s. They’re unwavering. Resolute. Kind.

 

Filled to the brim with determination and….and something else maybe. Something deeper.

 

And Keith isn’t breathing, afraid that if he does the image will break: he’ll wake from this dream and return to a life where something like this would  _never_  happen. A reality in which Lance’s eyes only hold his own for a few seconds at a time, never lingering, never watching with this intensity…this  _depth_.

 

Perhaps he’s hallucinating. That would explain a lot. And the lack of oxygen to his brain is definitely starting to play a role in things.

 

But he exhales slowly in reaction to Lance’s hand reaching up hesitantly. And he inhales sharply when soft fingertips brush up against his cheek, delicate and gentle. And all of a sudden he’s worried about blacking out from lightheadedness as his heart panics and his lungs work overtime.

 

“Hey,  _shhh._  Calm down,” Lance soothes, and it works. By some  _miracle_  it works. And Keith does as asked, focusing his breathing so it’s smooth and steady and only hitching on every other inhale. He’s still caught in Lance’s eyes, still burning beneath his touch.

 

But he’s calm.

 

Calmer than he thinks he’s ever been.

 

“Do you mean it.” He’d intended the phrase to be a question, but instead it exits his throat as a demand, sharp and doubtful despite the lowered tone. But he needs to know.  _Has_  to hear it again.

 

_“I don’t want to pretend.”_

 

Lance smiles, and finally-regrettably-his gaze drops.

 

“I-” he begins, chuckling lightly as he does. His hand moves off Keith’s cheek, toying with a longer strand of hair that he focuses on as he continues. “I thought, when you said those things…your secret, you know, that you-well-”

 

“That I liked you?” Keith supplies, and Lance ducks his head nervously.

 

“Well… _yeah_. I thought it wasn’t real. That  _you_ , at least that version of you, wasn’t real, because of the bite and the reaction and…yeah. So I…sort of freaked out and ran off because it felt like too much, and I was scared of what I might have done had I stayed, and then I was  _terrified_  of how you would react if you found out and knew it was all fake and just-” he trails off, swallowing thickly.

 

“It wasn’t fake,” Keith clarifies, because he needs to. He needs Lance to know that what he’d said hadn’t been a lie. “It was a secret, yeah, but only because I wasn’t brave enough to say anything sooner. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

 

Lance won’t look at him, which  _just_  won’t do, so Keith tucks his hand beneath Lance’s chin, lifting it gently so their eyes meet once more. And he repeats himself.

 

“I like you, Lance.”

 

“I…”

 

“I like you.”

 

“Keith-”

 

“I like you,” and Lance is smiling goofily now as he attempts pushing Keith away with his hand. But Keith won’t let him go far, and leans in again as Lance sinks back to the floor. “Do you like me?”

 

He thinks he already knows the answer to that, but it’s satisfying to hear the words from Lance’s own mouth. Even if he covers his face with his hands, grinning awkwardly as he says it, it’s still satisfying.

 

“I do, yeah.”

 

“Then, can I kiss you?”

 

It’s bold, yes, but Keith feels brave. He feels confident. Empowered. He feels fucking  _amazing_  right now, and Lance’s startled gasp in response to his sudden inquiry only fuels the flames burning brazen in his gut. And when Lance takes his hands away from his face to stare shocked up at him, Keith beams: giddy and drunk and drowning so happily in those bright blues and greys and-

 

And he leans down, closing the distance between them-the space. He leans down and shuts his eyes and kisses Lance flat on the mouth. And it’s absolute  _chaos_  in his head, emotions churning blissfully as colours bloom behind his eyelids. He’d thought the sensory overload from the bug bite had been bad.

 

Kissing Lance is an entirely new level of that.

 

But it’s focused. It’s divine. It’s comprehensible and overwhelming in a way that Keith thinks he can manage. Lance’s smell, his taste, the feel of his hands clasping tight to Keith’s shoulders, everything is remarkably clear, despite the buzzing in his ears.

 

In a word, it’s sensational, and it ends with a laugh as he pulls away to witness Lance beaming, eyes still shut as his lower lip is pulled between his teeth.

 

“Woah…” he mumbles, looking dazed as he opens his eyes to stare fondly up at Keith. “That was… _way_  better than the hug I had planned.”

 

And Keith is laughing, flustered but contented. He rests his head against Lance’s chest, feeling heavy and weightless at the same time. It’s confusing, but he goes with it. And soon Lance is joining him, giggles bubbling joyously into the air until both are nearly weeping.

 

Finally they stand, Lance complaining of Keith’s weight even as he steals another kiss. But once on their feet Lance stays close, refusing to relinquish his hold of Keith’s hand.

 

“So uh…” he begins, rubbing the back if his neck as he smiles down at their entangled fingers. “Are we like…a thing now?”

 

“Do you wanna be?” Keith asks, nervous for a split second that Lance may not want anything more than what they just shared. But his fears are banished just as quickly as they’re born as Lance pulls him in for a  _proper_  hug: one from the front that doesn’t have Keith anticipating a fight.

 

“I wanna be, yeah.”

 

And Keith is grateful that Lance’s embrace is as tight as it is, lest he collapse as he knees go weak. They break apart, nervously glancing at one another and laughing shyly when their eyes meet.

It’s childish, yeah, but Keith doesn’t judge himself. He’s too thrilled with the events of the afternoon to harbour any self-doubts.

 

_Besides, Lance isn’t teasing me so-_

 

“Hey, Keith,” Lance smirks, squeezing their hands tighter as they begin to walk absently. “Remember that time you ninja flipped me before our first kiss?”

 

_Damn. Spoke too soon._

 

Keith rolls his eyes, groaning at the jest, knowing there will be  _many_  more to come. But two can play that game.

 

“Hey, Lance, remember that time I  _cradled you in my arms?”_

 

That does the trick, and Lance flushes pink as he averts his gaze.

 

“Never gonna let me live that down, are you.”

 

“Nope,” Keith grins. “I have to keep bringing it up since your memory is so  _conveniently_  horrible.”

 

“Touché,” Lance shrugs, winking over at Keith. “ **But** _this_ **I will never forget!** ”

 

“You better not,” Keith simpers. “Though… if you ever need a reminder I don’t think I’d mind _that_ much.”

 

Lance’s brows shoot up on his forehead, and he pauses in the hall, jostling Keith’s arm as he does.

 

“Is that so?” he drawls, expression turning sly. “I think my memories are getting hazy…fuzzy…” he squints, pressing a finger to his temple to dramatize his act. “Hmm, yep…definitely having a hard time recalling what it was we just did-”

 

“Oh you’re the worst,” Keith murmurs under his breath, but already he’s stepping closer, pressing Lance up against the wall with a wicked grin. “But I think it went something like this.”

 

And he reminds Lance. Reminds him  _well_.

 

Because he wants to remember this too.


End file.
